Your Only Doll
by MistyKittyKat
Summary: What can you do with a girl who refuses to be alive? And you are a disorder and you can not define love or yourself or the people you think you love. My first Courtney and Duncan fanfic!


**So I wrote something new...Just because I got some old stories added to people's favorite's list and it inspired me to write something new and fucked up. lmao. Anyway enjoy this story about Courtney who has probably a Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Idk, kinda using the idea to study for psych too luls.**  
**Also I do not own TDI series for if it did there would be assisnation, prostitution, and other things...**  
**I also do not own Your Only Doll by Laura Marling.**

* * *

The feeling of aphotic hands pressed into my womb flushes through my entire being. It ties knots inside my heart and stops the pluse of reality that circulates my preception. There is a break, a sudden strange impluse that flourishes inside my head and I hold him closer. He is flowering inside my mouth, tasting vulgar on my tongue and I can feel his heart rhyming along with mine. Beating in his ribcage chest above me. He stops caressing my thigh and smiles down at me through his lashes and smirk. I do not smile back because a sickening idea has been planted in my head, so sick that I have to hold him even closer inorder to erradicate my thoughts.

"What's the matter Princess?"

"Nothing," I reply untangling myself from his bed sheets and leaving his room.

"Princess...?"

* * *

Is it weird loving someone already knowing that you do not love them?

Sometimes I believe that I am able to love a person...able to love a person if I hold them with such tenderness and such compassion...

But I am wrong, I am wrong. I am wrong because I am immune to love.

There is a disorder that sifts and filters in and out of my blood, and I am not in dominance.

* * *

_In his bed I am queen, unobtainable me_  
_Sexual being, human with feelings_  
_The two are not me_  
_The two will not be mine._

My father touched me when I was eleven. He encompassed my body within his arms, he was the sun and illuminated a world inbetween my thighs. Sometimes in my dreams I can still feel his warm calloused hands delicately clasping my breasts as he places little kisses along the skin of my collar bones.

And what is love? What is love if you can not recall the miniscular tingles that tiptoe across your bare skin or the soft destructable voice of your lover under the fractals of the lucid stars twirling above in space.

Father's hands grasping my love handles, trailing over my nymphet torsal. My child's mind being reflected, reflected, reflected.

But father died and I can on longer Love.

* * *

"Duncan?" I call for him as I enter his room again.

"Yes princess?"

"I miss you...It is the feeling I get when I am not with you, when I long for you most..."

I grab him and pull him towards me.

"Does that feel good Princess?" His lips mumble into my chest

"Yes." But it does not, it is not alive. A dead thing that does not breath on its own is not alive. A fetus is not alive, it does not breath with its own lungs. He does not give me the thrill my father used to give me. Duncan is a replacement. I am replacing my father with my Duncan. I kiss him with passion and lust but I do not feel the ghost that escapes my body to flirt with his skin.

* * *

There is a difference between broken and damaged, you can not phsycally fix a broken object.

Something inside my has detached in memory, detaching out of cognition and latching else where in a broken memory. You can not piece together something that has been thrown and shattered into a hunderd miniscular pieces.

_Put his hand on my shirt_  
_Hand on my face,_  
_Head to the wall_

Paranoia contaminates my veins and vessels, polluting my preceptions and guides my desires in unjustifiable directions at unexplainable intervals. Because who is my father, and who is my Duncan. Who am I anymore than I am you?

Can a being be deprived of love? Can a being's bone be made of glass and fracture and never heal?

* * *

"I love you Princess!"

"I love you too, Duncan." I say it but I do not mean it. There is a boarder between not meaning what you say and lying. Everytime I speak of love I am lying because I already know that I can no longer Love...

_And what will you do with a girl_  
_If she refuses to be alive?_

_And you've broken your only doll  
And what will you do with a girl  
If she's refusing to be alive?_

* * *

_PLEASE R&R! WOOT! and point out stuff i need to improve on!_


End file.
